


Meeting Strangers

by WitchyElla (Leviarty)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-02
Updated: 2010-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leviarty/pseuds/WitchyElla





	Meeting Strangers

The first time he met her, she was running, drenched head to toe.  Her shoes were covered in mud; her baggy jeans were torn at the knees and had grass stains everywhere.  Her gray shirt too was covered in stains, stains of every color, shape and size.  Her blonde hair was pulled into a high, mess ponytail with twigs sticking out at strange angles.  A few stray hairs had escaped the wrath of the elastic hair tie and stuck themselves to her face.  She wore no make-up, no exotic jewelry, just a pair of dog-tags around her neck.  There were scrapes and bruises up and down her arms.

She stopped running near the Quidditch pitch where he was standing.

“Morning,” she greeted happily, though a bit out of breath, as she grabbed her water bottle and drank most of it in just a few seconds.  She reeked of sweat and grime.

“What happened to you?” he asked, unable to keep his curiosity to himself.

“Small tussle with the Whomping Willow,” she replied as if it was no big deal.  Then she set the water back down.  “Ta,” she said before taking off running again, ignoring the various wounds she adorned.

The second time he met her, she was in the library.  She was wearing a blood red bath robe and neon green leggings.  Her hair was down this time, but just as chaotic as before, giving the impression it hadn’t been brushed in days.  There was a candy cane sticking out of one ear, and a half-eaten licorice stick in the other.  She was sitting on the floor, against the wall, her bare feet resting on a nearby chair.  She had a book resting her knees, but the title could not be seen.

“Hello,” she greeted, just as happily as before.  She did not look up from her book, nor acknowledge his presence in any other way.

“Hi,” he replied, curiosity ringing.

“It’s called the Looking Glass Wars,” she answered the unasked question, standing up.  “You really should read it,” she added, handing him the candy cane.

The third time he met her, she was in the kitchens.  Here hair was braided, though still messy.  One ear now had her wand tucked behind it, the other with another piece of partially eaten licorice.  He wondered for a moment if it was the same piece.  She wore a knee-length tie-died skirt and the shirt to her uniform.  He noticed hints of Ravenclaw blue.  Her once again bare feet dangled a foot or so from the ground, the stool she sat on was far too large.  Before her was a plate of greasy fries and a mound of ketchup.  In her hand she held a burger several inches taller than necessary.  She sunk her teeth into it, allowing some of the mysterious sauce to join the ketchup on her plate and shirt.

“Hungry?” she asked him, sliding the fries in his direction.  He wasn’t sure how she’d even known he was there; her back was to the door.

“Thanks,” he said, sitting down at the adjacent edge of the table.  He ran a fry through the ketchup as she stood and walked across the room.

“Soda?” she asked, opening the fridge.

“Sure,” he replied as she handed him a can of muggle pop.  She sat back down and began munching on her burger once more.  She was wearing her uniform this time.  Her hair was held up in two pigtails, each tied with several shades of blue ribbons.  Her shoes were not the standard uniform ones that the whole school wore, but a pair of knee high black riding boots.

The fourth time he met her, she was in the dungeons.  He was just exiting his Potions class when he noticed her whispering to an invisible figure.

“You coming?” someone asked him.

“I’ll catch up with you in a minute,” he replied, walking towards her.

“Okay,” the voice shrugged and left.

He approached her, realizing that the entity she was conversing with was not invisible, but a statue of a boar.  He may have found this odd if he had not known that the boar had a tendency to talk back.

“Thinking of playing a game of chess with him,” she informed him, smiling.  “He’s quite brilliant.”

“I’m sure,” he replied, swearing the statue had given him a strange look.  “So listen…” he began.

“Would you like to go to Hogsmead with me this weekend?” she interrupted.

He couldn’t help but grin.

He felt no need to answer the question.  She knew the answer long before she asked.

The last time he met her, there were clouds.  They had blocked out the sun, leaving them in near darkness.

She was sitting by the lake, skipping stones into the dark water.  Her hair was flowing with the cool wind; there was a magenta flower tucked carefully behind an ear.  She wore a long, white tattered dress and a pair of fuzzy black slippers.

He stood in the distance, watching as she pulled a flower from the earth, having no more rocks to throw.  She got to her feet and faced him.

She had been waiting.

She began to walk slowly towards him, twirling the flower between her fingers.

“Hello Love,” she greeted, giving him the purple flower.

“Hello Moon,” he replied, pulling her into a tight embrace.

Both had been waiting.  For far too long.

But there was no more waiting.  There was no more time.  No more pain.  No more hate.  There was only this.  Whatever they wished.

And right now, all they wished was to have Heaven to themselves.

And for a moment they did.


End file.
